


Smokers on Top of the World

by mythmade



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - 1980s, M/M, Newspapers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-11
Updated: 2013-06-11
Packaged: 2017-12-14 15:16:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,190
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/838370
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mythmade/pseuds/mythmade
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Louis is a reporter and Zayn is his photographer. They're sitting on top of one of the biggest political scandals in history.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Smokers on Top of the World

**Author's Note:**

> Pretty much everything that isn't the overview of the Iran-Contra affair is made up, so please don't yell at me for being historically inaccurate. Also, I really have no idea how investigative journalism or newspapers work, so I just made stuff up. Please don't hold it against me.
> 
> (Also: I ended up walking past the Washington Post building and it does not have steps, which is dumb, but I'm pretending it does, so.)

Louis never knows how to start. Taking a drag on a cigarette only helps him focus. It doesn’t help him begin. His article is due in twelve hours and all he’s got is a photo.

At least Zayn had given him something. He’s probably in the darkroom right now developing more photos for the story Louis is supposed to have finished. As much as Louis wants to abandon his typewriter and go crowd Zayn up against a wall, the paper goes to print in twelve hours. The story they’re breaking is huge. As in, Pulitzer Prize winner huge.

The year is 1986 and Louis is sitting on top of the biggest political scandal since Watergate.

Members of the United States government are involved in the sale of arms to Iran, which has a strict arms embargo on it. Israel is supplying the weapons directly to Iran and the United States is resupplying Israel and receiving payment. Iranian officials have promised to do whatever they can to negotiate the release of seven American hostages.

 That was the plan anyway. It’s devolved into members of the Executive Branch trying to essentially trade arms for hostages.

Not only is the United States supplying arms to Iran, but it’s using the payments from the arms deal to fund the Contras in Nicaragua. Congress has banned the United States from giving any more financial aid to the Nicaraguan rebels, although Ronald Reagan does support their cause.

Louis is a journalist. He’s been working in the field since he was nineteen. He’s twenty-six. So, he likes to think that he knows how the world works. Journalism is a cutthroat business and Louis trusts his editor and Zayn and that’s about it. So the way he views the world is definitely jaded. He had never expected anything like this, though.

It was pure luck that Louis and Zayn got the story. The editor at the _Washington Post_ , Louis’ editor Niall Horan, had received a tip from someone fairly high up in the government. Horan had assigned Louis to the story because Horan owed Louis a favor and because he’s a damned good journalist. And wherever Louis goes, Zayn follows. They’re a package deal. Always have been, hopefully always will be. No one looks to hard at their relationship and so they’re fine.

The phone rings. Louis shakes himself out of his daydream and answers it.

“Tomlinson speaking.”

“Lou. How’s your history changing story coming?” It’s Zayn.

“Fuck off, Z. And someone could be wiretapping the phones you know.”

“Ah babe, you’re too paranoid. But then again I guess you are about to break a story that is going to bring the United States government to its knees.”

“Zayn, please. No sensitive information on the phone. And don’t be so dramatic, we don’t know how this is going to turn out. And you’re a part of this too, you know.”

“I’ve got to keep you on your toes, don’t I? And ah yes. In the bottom left hand corner of your full page spread it will say: Moral support provided by Zayn Malik.”

“Don’t be an idiot. All the photos are yours and I’d give you by-line credit even if they weren’t.”

“No you wouldn’t. You want to be notorious far too much to share the spotlight with anyone.”

Louis is silent for a moment. “I’d share it with you.”

Zayn sighs on the other end.  “Well.” There is another moment of silence. Zayn speaks again, “How is the article coming though?”

Now it’s Louis’ turn to sigh. “I don’t have anything, but my notes still. I don’t know how to start.”

“You’ve got it Lou. You’ll be okay.”

“God I hope so. When are you coming up?”

“As much as I love spending time in your cramped, miniscule office, I need to finish developing the rest of my negatives. I have deadlines too.”

“Piss off. I know that, but couldn’t you have come up to check on me instead of calling?”

“I could have, but I just would have distracted you and you need to get working.”

“Ugh, you’re right.”

“As usual.”

“Yeah, yeah. Come see me before the paper goes to print at least.”

“You know I will.”

Louis hangs up the phone. He gets up and walks through the offices to the balcony. He lets himself out and takes out a cigarette.

Part of the appeal of smoking is that it reminds Louis of when he first met Zayn. He’d been waiting on the steps of the _Washington Post_ building after arriving an hour early for his interview and after a few minutes he’d spotted the most beautiful boy he had ever seen. Zayn had been smoking like sin and Louis got up his nerve to talk to him, by asking to bum a cigarette. Zayn was seventeen, fresh out of high school. Louis was eighteen. Not so different.

Louis thinks about the past eight years with Zayn as he chain-smokes three cigarettes. Louis had turned twenty before he’d gotten up the nerve to ask Zayn back to his apartment. Zayn later told him that he’d been waiting for Louis to ask since the second week they’d known each other.

After he finishes his third cigarette, Louis heads back into the building. He has a story to write and a scandal to expose.

* * *

Louis finishes the article with three hours to spare. He uses one of those hours to painstakingly proofread every sentence he wrote. He counts how many words he’s used. Three under the limit. Perfect.

Time to go to press.

* * *

Zayn finds him as Louis is falling asleep at his desk. He shakes him awake and whispers in Louis’ ear, “Come home with me.”

Louis nods groggily and clings to Zayn.

Zayn half carries him, half drags him out of the building and if people give them odd looks, well they know better than to ask questions.

They take a cab back to Zayn’s apartment and fall asleep wrapped in each other.

The morning brings messy blowjobs and a lazy shower before Louis can bring himself to get dressed and go buy a paper.

Zayn is in the kitchen making an omelette and Louis pads up behind him and kisses the place where his neck meets his shoulder. “I’m going to go get a paper. I’ll be back.”

Zayn turns and smiles and kisses Louis briefly before whacking him on the ass and saying, “Well, hurry up. Breakfast won’t wait for you.”

Louis slips out the door.

His story takes up half of the front page. Half of the front page and a full spread on pages four and five complete with Zayn’s photos.

A sense of relief washes over Louis. He’s done it.

* * *

He wins a Pulitzer. The year before, in 1985 an award for investigative reporting had been established and that’s what he wins. He’s twenty-seven and has a Pulitzer to his name.

Zayn sits next to him at the ceremony. When it’s time for Louis to go up and join the rest of the winners, Zayn squeezes his hand and smiles at him.

Louis takes his place among the stars.


End file.
